the window casing, sliding down the wall and billowing across the floor toward Katie, who screamed and stepped backward.
Out of her circle.
A howling filled the air and Samantha turned back to see a figure shrouded in black glide across the threshold. She began to shake uncontrollably as images of other witches stirred in her memory. The light streaming through the windows failed to touch the inky figure. In fact, it was more of a shadow than a form in the darkness, something she felt more than saw.
A fragment of a rhyme she had learned as a child ranthrough her head.
When witches go to school, little boys cry. When witches go to school, bad girls die.
There was more but she couldn’t remember it, didn’t want to remember it.
The dark figure was moving, and it stretched out one hand and touched a counter as it passed by. The jars on the counter fell off, smashing on the floor. The witch swept an arm forward as if directing something.
Bad girls die.
“Get back in the circle!” Samantha shouted, not daring to look at Katie but keeping her full attention on the witch. The other moved with a slight, hypnotic swaying motion, coming ever closer.
Samantha was a bad girl. Or she had been but not now. Now she was… what was it she was?
Pull yourself together!
A cop. She was a cop.
“Stop! Police officer! Get on the ground! Now!” Samantha ordered, her years of training kicking in.
She might as well not have spoken, for all the effect it had. The witch’s arms were extended slightly and the fingertips brushed the sides of desks as she passed. As she touched the first two they erupted into columns of flame, which instantly began to spew dark smoke.
Thoughts collided in Samantha’s mind, slipping over one another and scattering. And she wasn’t a detective anymore. She was a frightened girl facing down a much stronger opponent. She heard a gasp behind her, followed by a thud. She risked a glance backward and saw Katie on the ground, the last of the green mist disappearing into her nose and mouth.
Samantha turned back and everything suddenly went black. Panic surged through her as she realized the witch had cast a spell of blindness upon her. She had no ideahow to reverse it. She froze for a moment. Behind her, Katie was making choking noises.
Sounds. Listen for the sounds.
She moved her gun back and forth, listening for something that would give away the other’s location.
Nothing.
Except—there it was—tiny scrabbling, scratching noises. She realized after a moment that the witch wasn’t making those noises. She thought of all the jars containing lab specimens that had smashed onto the floor. She had seen frogs, fetal pigs, and other creatures awaiting dissection suspended in the jars. They were dead.
Yet they were moving. She could hear the sounds of the animated corpses scuffling along the floor, animated by the witch, who must also be approaching ever closer.
Something squealed near her foot and then bit her ankle. With a shriek she kicked hard, sending whatever it was flying across the room.
More came and she kicked out again. But for each one she got rid of, two more grabbed her legs.
Stop the witch; stop the attack.
She didn’t have to see the witch to know where she was. She took a deep breath and forced herself to tune in to the swirling energy in the room. She felt the power of the fire, Katie dying behind her, tiny feet scrabbling over her shoes, and to her left…
She turned and fired the gun. And she felt,
knew
, that she’d hit her mark.
And in a moment, her vision returned, proof that the spell had been disrupted. Through the smoke she saw a figure crumpled on the ground. She walked over, her gun still aimed, and kicked at the legs.
No movement. She had shot the witch in the chest. She listened, straining, but could not detect any sound ofbreathing. She kicked the hood back and saw a woman about ten years older than she was, with dark eyes fixed and staring at the ceiling. She was
Out of her circle.
A howling filled the air and Samantha turned back to see a figure shrouded in black glide across the threshold. She began to shake uncontrollably as images of other witches stirred in her memory. The light streaming through the windows failed to touch the inky figure. In fact, it was more of a shadow than a form in the darkness, something she felt more than saw.
A fragment of a rhyme she had learned as a child ranthrough her head.
When witches go to school, little boys cry. When witches go to school, bad girls die.
There was more but she couldn’t remember it, didn’t want to remember it.
The dark figure was moving, and it stretched out one hand and touched a counter as it passed by. The jars on the counter fell off, smashing on the floor. The witch swept an arm forward as if directing something.
Bad girls die.
“Get back in the circle!” Samantha shouted, not daring to look at Katie but keeping her full attention on the witch. The other moved with a slight, hypnotic swaying motion, coming ever closer.
Samantha was a bad girl. Or she had been but not now. Now she was… what was it she was?
Pull yourself together!
A cop. She was a cop.
“Stop! Police officer! Get on the ground! Now!” Samantha ordered, her years of training kicking in.
She might as well not have spoken, for all the effect it had. The witch’s arms were extended slightly and the fingertips brushed the sides of desks as she passed. As she touched the first two they erupted into columns of flame, which instantly began to spew dark smoke.
Thoughts collided in Samantha’s mind, slipping over one another and scattering. And she wasn’t a detective anymore. She was a frightened girl facing down a much stronger opponent. She heard a gasp behind her, followed by a thud. She risked a glance backward and saw Katie on the ground, the last of the green mist disappearing into her nose and mouth.
Samantha turned back and everything suddenly went black. Panic surged through her as she realized the witch had cast a spell of blindness upon her. She had no ideahow to reverse it. She froze for a moment. Behind her, Katie was making choking noises.
Sounds. Listen for the sounds.
She moved her gun back and forth, listening for something that would give away the other’s location.
Nothing.
Except—there it was—tiny scrabbling, scratching noises. She realized after a moment that the witch wasn’t making those noises. She thought of all the jars containing lab specimens that had smashed onto the floor. She had seen frogs, fetal pigs, and other creatures awaiting dissection suspended in the jars. They were dead.
Yet they were moving. She could hear the sounds of the animated corpses scuffling along the floor, animated by the witch, who must also be approaching ever closer.
Something squealed near her foot and then bit her ankle. With a shriek she kicked hard, sending whatever it was flying across the room.
More came and she kicked out again. But for each one she got rid of, two more grabbed her legs.
Stop the witch; stop the attack.
She didn’t have to see the witch to know where she was. She took a deep breath and forced herself to tune in to the swirling energy in the room. She felt the power of the fire, Katie dying behind her, tiny feet scrabbling over her shoes, and to her left…
She turned and fired the gun. And she felt,
knew
, that she’d hit her mark.
And in a moment, her vision returned, proof that the spell had been disrupted. Through the smoke she saw a figure crumpled on the ground. She walked over, her gun still aimed, and kicked at the legs.
No movement. She had shot the witch in the chest. She listened, straining, but could not detect any sound ofbreathing. She kicked the hood back and saw a woman about ten years older than she was, with dark eyes fixed and staring at the ceiling. She was
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